


Notifications

by HallowQueen



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Aerys Is His Own Warning, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, M/M, Modern Royalty, R plus L equals J, Social Media
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-28
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-03-10 13:46:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13502771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HallowQueen/pseuds/HallowQueen
Summary: Jon Snow, or Jaehaerys Targaryen, is content with his flip phone and relative isolation. He's supposed to stay out of the public eye, at least until his father can convince the king to recognise him as a trueborn son. Pretending to be his uncle's bastard is easier in isolation, he has fewer people to lie to.Then Arya and Sansa give him a smartphone and he falls down a rabbithole, all thanks to one silly picture from Sansa with a surprisingly pretty girl.





	1. The Phone

“Come on, take it!” Arya demanded, pushing the phone at him.

Jon stared at the black smartphone as though it would bite him. “My phone works fine.” He protested, holding up his trusted flip phone.

“You’re phone is a _fossil_.” Arya rebutted.

“Arya!” Sansa scolded.

“What?” Arya demanded. “You said yourself it was better as a paperweight.”

“Well…” Sansa flushed. “It is a little...behind the times. Besides, the anonymity of the internet will give you a little more freedom to be yourself.”

Jon snorted at that. “The last thing _anyone_ wants me to be is myself.”

His father, Prince Rhaegar, had sent him north with his uncle as a babe in arms. He was hidden away under a false name, and assumed to be his uncle’s bastard, instead of a son born of the prince’s secret second wife, who had died in childbirth. Rhaegar had had plans to have Lyanna as a second queen, but when she died before he could get his father Aerys to recognise the marriage, he had sent Jon North instead, with him Arthur Dayne, a kingsguard knight he trusted. Rhaegar promised as soon as he could convince Aerys to recognise his marriage to Lyanna, or the king died, he would come back for his son, and Jon Snow would be Jaehaerys Targaryen, as he was always meant to be. In his less generous moments, he sometimes wondered if his father hated the sight of him, either because he had killed his mother, or because he hadn’t been the daughter Rhaegar had desired.

“Fuck them.” Arya observed. “Be yourself this way. Dad doesn’t know his way around the internet, and it’s not like anyone else will put things together.”

Jon smiled at his sister-cousins, and hugged them both as he took the phone. “Thanks, I guess.”

“I loaded it with the best apps, so you don’t have to go hunting.” Sansa enthused. “And in your notes I left a list of all my social media accounts so you can follow me.”

“And I left mine and Robb’s so you’re not stuck staring at status updates all about the latest hairstyles and pictures of embroidery.” Arya added, making Jon laugh.

It wasn’t until the next day, sitting alone in his room that Jon pulled out the phone. He spent about an hour switching over his contacts, and exploring all of the new features, before wandering into the “apps,” that his sister-cousins had chosen.

He spent two hours swapping candy. The game were weirdly addictive. Even stranger was the fact that Arya apparently had higher scores than Sansa. The game where you built Westeros through history, and built up troops and attacked other people’s kingdoms was fun, especially when he and Robb got into a minor war over the Riverlands, and while he was distracted with that, Bran had shown up and attacked his Dorne. He laughed so hard it startled Ghost.

The photosharing app made him pause. He knew he wasn’t going to sign up for Facebook, because there were just too many lies in that, but surely pictures wouldn’t be so bad? It’s not like he had to take pictures of _himself._ The girls had suggested he be himself. He clicked in and paused over the name.

_Was_ he going to be himself? He wasn’t walking into the Red Keep and declaring himself Jaehaerys Targaryen before the court or anything. It was just a photo-sharing app. To be honest, he wanted to recognise both sides of his heritage. Glancing in the corner, where his sword was lying after practising with Arthur, he took a deep breath and typed.

* * *

 He actually liked taking pictures. Ghost seemed to almost roll his eyes at him for the amount of pictures the white direwolf had to endure, but that wasn’t all he took pictures of -- his favourite areas of Winterfell, the Wolfswood, and even Winter Town were featured.

One day, after Sansa had returned to King’s Landing University, he was paging through his feed, spotting a picture of Sansa and another girl jumping into a fountain. Laughing despite himself, he shook his head and read the caption.

**@sansaofwinterfell:** Me and **@highgardenrose** lost a bet with **@garlanthegallant** . _#ikeepmyword #wolvescanswim #klulife_

As amused as he was, he wondered about who these people were, a little bit of the overprotective brother peeking out. He clicked over first to the person who apparently made the bet, and was a little relieved to see that the man was married, and judging by the comments, sisters with the other girl, meaning that Sansa likely got swept up in one of those sibling bets, like Arya and he often trapped Jeyne Pool in, one way or another.

Still cautious, he clicked over to the other girl’s account, and smiled to himself as he paged through. He was glad Sansa had made friends with this kind of girl. Like Sansa, there were a few selfies showing off hair or outfits, but there were also pictures of stacks of books, bemoaning a double-major course load, or a test the next day. Most heartwarming to him, however, were the series of selfies with kids from the orphanages in King’s Landing. They weren’t the highly polished, lady of leisure selfies, they were often laughing, or smiling, where most of her focus was on the child and not the camera. One even had her, dress covered in mud, face splattered, with a child equally covered in mud on her shoulders. It was adorable.

He hit the like button.

It was three months old.

_Shit._


	2. The Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery is curious and Jon plays games.

“Hey Sansa,” Margaery Tyrell said suddenly, looking up from her phone, to her roommate, who was buried in a paper on Early Westerosi History. “Who is this guy on Instagram? He’s following you and has pictures of your home.”

Sansa glanced up. “Dunno. Could be anyone. Let me see.”  She took the phone and noted the name with a smile. She always thought Jon’s story terribly romantic, a prince hidden as a lowly bastard in a cold northern castle. Noting the account name, she decided to tell a version of the truth.  “That’s Jae. He’s like one of my brothers. His father requested that Dad foster him at Winterfell.”

Margaery raised an eyebrow at that. Fostering was an old tradition, not one common in these days, and to foster with the Lord Paramount of the North meant that he was definitely of noble birth, but she couldn’t place the name. It was a mystery, and she didn’t like not knowing something. “Interesting.”

It was the mystery more than anything else that when she got her phone back, made her like one of the photos. She scrolled through the pictures, hoping to find a picture of the mysterious **@jaeicefyre**. She had no luck, but his pictures were good, and her curiosity was peaked, so she liked one of the photos.

Jon was distracted by his worrying over his social media slip up by trying to avoid his aunt the next day. Lady Catelyn didn’t particularly care for him, to put it mildly, and when she was cross, he knew well to stay as _far_ away as he could get. Uncle Ned had the same idea, and they spent the afternoon hunting deep in the Wolfswood, while Catelyn fretted and worried over the fact that Bran wanted to go squire for a knight.

“We should be getting back.” Ned admitted, as the sun began to dip lower. “We’ll be needing to get this to the kitchens if we want to eat it tonight.”

Jon sighed and nodded, pulling out his phone to snap a picture of Ghost, nearly invisible against the snow, as he followed silently after Ned’s horse. As he logged in to share it, he was surprised to see an alert.

**@highgardenrose** liked your photo.

Smiling in relief, Jon hit the notification and opened the app. The photo was one of his earlier ones, a view of the glass gardens from outside. Somehow that made it a little less awkward.

Just as he was about to close it however, another notification popped up: **@highgardenrose** is now following you.

He paused for a moment, before following back. It was only polite, after all.

* * *

 “Is that him?” Margaery asked, sticking her phone in front of Sansa’s face a month later. It was hard for her to believe someone could have an Instagram account and not post a _single flipping selfie._

Sansa rolled her eyes, but looked at it anyway, then shook her head with a laugh. “That’s Theon.” She said with a shake of her head. “Balon Greyjoy’s last son. Apparently he annoyed Ghost.” She opened her own phone and liked the photo with a grin, as it showed Ghost with Theon’s hood in his teeth, and Theon on his butt in the snow, obviously having been pulled down by the direwolf. “If you want a picture so bad, just ask him.”

Margaery bit her lip for a moment, and then commented.

**highgardenrose** : Ghost seems to have disagreed with him! Although I find it sad I had to ask **@sansaofwinterfell** if that was you! When are you gonna post a selfie?

The reply came pretty quickly, actually, while she was writing an email to her grandmother. Smiling, she opened it up.

**jaeicefyre:** I don’t know whether to be flattered or insulted that you thought I was Theon **@highgardenrose** not really into selfies though, I’m used to being in the shadows. I’ll think about it, though.

* * *

 Jon found it terribly amusing just how _bad_ his half-brother was at Clash of Houses. No one knew he played, of course, Aegon wandered around the internet as YoungGriff, while Rhaenys was BaelaSand. It was still fun, though, to team up with Rhaenys and slaughter Aegon’s carefully built cities. While he had been nervous about the phone at first, he couldn’t help but enjoy the extra, if digital, time he got with his siblings. Rhaenys had always texted him, even before the new phone, as they had bonded over their grandfather’s hatred of the both of them, but Aegon had always been more distant. Jon didn’t blame him, he knew he was busy, learning and training to be a king. He didn’t envy him either. He had never liked attention, and if he had been officially a member of the family, it would be nothing but attention. Sometimes he still wished for it, though. He found it strange that Queen Elia had taken to him immediately, the few times they had met, playing with his curls and wrapping him in hugs, despite her slight frame. This behaviour was especially puzzling when he compared it to how Catelyn had treated him when people only _assumed_ he was Ned’s son.

Rhaenys had merely shrugged when Jon asked. “Mother’s Dornish. You should meet Uncle Oberyn.” Apparently it was that simple, for Elia, anyway. He still got name day presents from her. The last present had been a cyvasse board, very possibly the first one north of The Neck. He was bad at it. Despite regular games with Arthur, even Aegon could destroy him at Cyvasse with Friends. After Aegon had killed off another one of his elephants, Jon switched from Cyvasse with Friends to Clash of Houses, and promptly stole all of his brother’s House Florent resources. Just to be fair, of course.

Five minutes later, he got a text. It was only two words, but it made him laugh. _You suck._

He quickly typed a simple reply. _You took my elephant._ For the first time, he felt like he had a brother that was actually his. He loved his cousin-siblings, but he never felt entirely like part of the family. It was nice to have another almost family. At least with two halves it felt closer to a whole.


	3. The Godswoods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon and Margaery trade pictures and Jon gets a mysterious text.

The first time Jon had a conversation with his instagram friend that was deeper than he expected, was all started by an artful photo of peach pastries, posted early in the morning.

**@highgardenrose:** I love the #klulife but nothing beats #breakfast on a weekend trip home to #highgarden.

Jon had laughed, and commented, as he now did on a lot of her photos.

**jaeicefyre:** Is that how you start an average day at home?

Margaery, miles away, read the comment with a grin. She could use this. Quickly, she typed a reply:

**highgardenrose:** All right then **@jaeicefyre** show me your average day.

Gauntlet thrown. There’d be no way he could completely avoid selfies today, now, right? It was a good plan. Or, well, it could be a good plan, except she kept getting distracted by his photos. First she teased him about his plain breakfast and grumbling about how he didn’t see the point of food pictures, which was fine, except she kept wondering what his voice was like.  The thing that really made her pause though, was the picture of the Godswood. It was beautiful, in a wild, untamed way. It struck her, somehow, and she found herself typing a much more serious reply than normal.

**highgardenrose:** You follow the #oldgods ? I didn’t know that! **@sansaofwinterfell** always goes to the sept with me.

**jaeicefyre:** Sansa’s mother follows the New Gods. My mother followed the old, and my parents married before them. I’ve never been comfortable in the sept. **@highgardenrose**

**sansaofwinterfell: @jaeicefyre @highgardenrose** the only good #godswood in #kingslanding is at the #redkeep. The #sept at #klu is pretty, at least.

Margaery bit her lip, not knowing what made her reply: **highgardenrose:** I have something to show you then. Check in a few minutes.

Not knowing what made her do it, but she was feeling as though she wanted to share something more of the south, the Reach, Highgarden, maybe even _herself_ with this mysterious man she knew next to nothing about. It was ridiculous, but she found herself hurrying to the Highgarden godswood anyway, and stepped back to get the best picture she could of the area. With her fingers, strangely shaking, she posted.

**@highgardenrose:** This is the #highgarden #godswood. The #hearttrees were planted by #garthgreenhand and have grown together as one. They’re called the #threesingers.

Sure enough, shortly after she posted it, there was a reply.

**jaeicefyre:** I didn’t know there were still godswoods that far south. It’s beautiful.

Margaery didn’t know what made her write what she did, she didn’t even think it through, or realise what it sounded like until she pressed the button. It was terribly unlike her.

**highgardenrose: @jaeicefyre** maybe you’ll get to see it in person someday.

* * *

 Later that night, Jon reached over to grab his phone when it made the insistent little trill that informed him he had a text message. He didn’t recognise the number, but when he opened it, he found a picture. It was of a godswood, taken through a window from some height. The heart tree was a great oak, covered in smokeberry vines, but directly across from the window was the youngest weirwood Jon had ever seen. It had no face, and underneath it was a rosebush with blue winter roses.

Jon shifted back to his contacts, checking to see if the number matched “Griff” or “Baela.” It didn’t. He was about to try and nick Arthur’s phone, when a second picture followed the first. It was a bedroom, decorated in Targaryen red and black and Stark white and grey. There was even an exceedingly large pet bed by the foot of the bed that looked like it would actually fit Ghost. On the walls were pictures he recognised -- the first day he had bested Arthur in the practise ring, on his last birthday, a picture of his mother with her three brothers, a picture of him and Arya, one of him with all of his cousin-siblings, and one he didn’t recognise, where he was talking with Rhaenys and Aegon. The three of them were mid conversation, and it had obviously been snapped without anyone knowing. Jon felt his throat close over as he blinked, when a third message came through.

_I love you, son._


	4. The Late Night Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon gets a late night phone call. Chaos ensues.

Jon had quickly grown attached to his new phone, largely in part because of the way it let him keep in touch with people. He had missed Arya especially since she had gone to King’s Landing, and he was finally becoming closer with both Sansa and his _actual_ half-siblings. Still, not that many people had his number, so when he got a call at one in the morning that pulled him out of sleep, he reached for it immediately without looking at the name. “Hello?”

“Jae?” A feminine voice said in a whisper, so that it took him a moment to recognise it.

“Rhaenys?” He said, blinking his eyes and sitting up. “What’s going on, are you alright? It's late.”

“No. Yes. I...I don’t know.” She was still whispering. “I’m scared, Jae. I don’t know who to trust. I escaped my Kingsguard. Can...can you come meet me?”

“In King’s Landing?” Jon repeated, already up and throwing on his clothes. They may not have grown up together, but Rhaenys was his sister, and she was scared. It hadn’t even crossed his mind to say no. “It’ll take me awhile.”

“I’ve got a place to hide for awhile.” Rhaenys said, just as quietly. “I’ll text you the address. Hurry, Jae.”

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Jon promised, before she hung up. He didn’t know what was happening, but a sense of dread had built in his stomach, and he didn’t like it.

He grabbed a bag and tossed some clothes into it. Part of him wanted to wake Arthur, he knew he wasn’t supposed to travel any distance without the man who had been like another uncle to him, but if Rhaenys had escaped her Kingsguard, bringing him along might be problematic. Instead, he scrawled a note, and left it on his pillow. ‘ _Family emergency. I’ll call when I can._ ’

“Ghost,” He said, snapping his fingers lightly. “Come on, we’ve got somewhere to be.”

* * *

 Even in his top of the line SUV, King’s Landing was more than a short drive. Even travelling at about eighty miles an hour for most of the trip, it was still almost eight at night by the time he reached the city. The smell turned his nose, but he ignored it as he pulled into a pub parking lot to check his phone.

Unsurprisingly, there were half-a-dozen voicemails from Uncle Ned and Arthur, and one each from Sansa and Arya, who Ned had checked in with to see if one of them had the ‘emergency.’ He felt bad, hearing the worry in all their voices, especially Arya yelling at him about being a ‘bloody great idiot,’ but he couldn’t help but remember how scared Rhaenys sounded. He comforted himself with the thought that Arya would understand, she knew he’d do the same for her, after all.

At the bottom of the messages was the text from Rhaenys with the address, and when he put it into the GPS the GPS revolted, informing him that no, the car could not go there, _thank you very much_ . Sighing, he parked it, grabbed his bag, and started on foot. As he followed the map he travelled further from the glitz and the glam of the city, and into a muddy slum. With every step he travelled it became less and less like a place that he would find a princess of the realm. When he found the address, it was a warehouse that looked more like the place people went to get Shade of the Evening than anywhere he would want to see _any_ of his sisters. He went up to the door anyway, texting back: ‘ _Here_ ’ so she wouldn’t stab if he opened the door. He wasn’t stupid.

A moment passed and the door opened. He blinked slightly, but then smiled as Rhaenys removed the wig that had confused him. “Hey.”

“Were you followed?” Rhaenys asked, pulling him inside the decrepit building and closing the door behind him.

“No.” Jon reassured her. “What’s going on, Rhae?”

“How do you know?” Rhaenys asked suspiciously.

Jon gestured to Ghost, sitting silent and patient at his side. “He’d know.”

Rhaenys nodded, and then seemed to deflate slightly. “Good.”

Jon watched as she crumpled in on herself. “What is it, Rhae? You sounded scared.”

“Someone’s trying to kill me, Jae.” Rhaenys admitted softly. “There was poison in my wine last night.”

“Wait,” Jon said, holding up his hands. “How did you know? Are you all right?”

“I’m fine.” Rhaenys reassured him. “Between Uncle Oberyn and Tyene, it would be very difficult to poison me without me noticing it first, especially since it was a rather obvious one.”

“Did you tell Dad? Did you tell your Kingsguard?” Jon immediately asked, feeling protective, for all that Rhaenys was his _older_ sister.

“No, I…” She swallowed hard. “I think Grandfather might be trying to kill me. If it is him...if he ordered it…”

“Then the Kingsguard would be bound to obey him.” Jon finished. “Just like when he abused Grandmother.”

“Even if it meant killing me.” Rhaenys agreed. “And if I accuse him, it’s treason, especially since I don’t know for sure. And if I tell Dad, he’ll do something stupid. But how else could such obvious poison get by a whitecloak?”

Jon ran a hand through his hair. “So what can I do, Rhae?”

Rhaenys looked at the ground, as if she was the younger one. “Will you stay in the capital with me, until we can figure this out and stop it? I need someone at my back I can trust when I can’t trust the guard on me.”

“A sworn shield?” Jon realised.

“Only until we figure out who's behind this and stop it.” Rhaenys promised. “The oath will only be until then.”

Jon groaned, but unsheathed his sword. “Arthur’s just going to _love_ this.” He muttered sarcastically. He had literally ran away from the man who was supposed to be guarding _him_ to guard someone else. Arthur was either going to be apoplectic with rage, or immensely proud of him -- possibly both.

“I’ll get you castle clearance tomorrow.” Rhaenys promised. “Do you have somewhere you can stay for the night? If I don’t head back soon they could claim kidnapping.”

“I can find a place.” Jon reassured her. “No one knows me. But will you be safe?”

“I’ll stay with mother for the night.” Rhaenys said decisively. “Lerwyn guards her. If the whitecloaks _are_ part of it, they wouldn’t tell him. He has oaths to family, too.”

“Text me when you get the clearance.” Jon agreed. “And you’re taking Ghost for the night, just in case.”

Rhaenys looked nervously at the direwolf. “Are you sure?”

“He’ll be perfectly behaved unless someone is a threat.” Jon promised. “And I’m unknown here.”

“Okay.” Rhaenys agreed, petting the white wolf somewhat nervously.

* * *

 Margaery Tyrell wanted to comfort or reassure her best friend, as Sansa paced their dorm room, but she didn’t have any idea _what_ to say. When Lord Stark had called her, Margaery had assumed it was just a normal conversation until Sansa’s voice had risen several decibels. “ _What do you mean he’s missing?!_ ”

In the hours since then, she had started to worry too. When she had heard that Jae had taken off from Winterfell claiming a family emergency, she had thought nothing of it -- even fostering had exceptions for health of family. The worry from everyone else, though, was palpable. They acted as if this was the strangest thing in the seven kingdoms. Sansa’s sister, who normally avoided them like grayscale had shown up to join Sansa’s vigil, and to leave distraught messages. Arya had left shortly after dinner, saying she needed something to take her frustrations out on, and ever since, Margaery had been looking after Sansa and becoming more and more concerned herself. “Has he never taken off by himself before?”

“Never.” Sansa said, shaking her head. “Even just to go to Winter Town, he always takes someone with him. Arthur, at least.”

While she knew Jae was more likely to let Sansa know before her, Margaery opened her phone and went to her direct messages. Ever since the day he had shared his day with her, they had been talking regularly, not just though comments, but also in DMs. Finding the last one, from the day before, she wrote: _I know you’ll contact everyone else first, but let me know you’re safe too._

“Let’s distract ourselves with a movie.” Margaery suggested afterward. “What are you in the mood for?”

“Something sappy, so I’m allowed to cry.” Sansa suggested, finally curling up on her bed as she watched Margaery reach for where they kept the popcorn.

They were halfway through the movie when there was a knock on the door. Margaery was up quickly. “No, you keep watching, I’ll get it.” She informed her roommate, and headed to the door. What she did not expect to find was a rather impressive man with a bag slung over his shoulder. “I’m safe?” He said, with a cautious grin, flashing his phone with her message on it.

“Jon!” Sansa shouted despite herself, jumping off her bed and throwing herself at him. “Do you have any idea how _worried_ we were?”

“Am I Jon again?” He teased. He didn’t mind, he had grown up most of his life as Jon, but Sansa had been very deliberate and careful in calling him Jae since he had made his way onto the internet. “Sorry, Sansa. I’ve been driving since one in the morning. Can I crash here?” he blushed slightly. “If it’s okay with Margaery, of course.”

“I insist.” Margaery replied, letting her eyes wander over him. He didn’t really resemble Sansa, but he looked quite similar to Arya and someone else she knew she had seen, she just couldn’t put her finger on it. “You can take my bed, Sansa and I will share.” She had been bothering him for selfies for weeks, but suddenly, she didn’t think they would do him any justice.

“I couldn’t.” Jae...or was it Jon… quickly disagreed. “Just throw me a blanket and I’ll be fine on the floor.”

“After you call Winterfell.” Sansa told him. “I’ll have Arya bring over a sleeping bag.”

Margaery found herself reaching for popcorn as Sansa pushed him to sit down, while she texted her sister. The mystery had just become even more...attractive.


	5. The Talks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Necessary conversations are had all around. There is yelling.

“JAEHAERYS JACAERYS JON STARK TARGARYEN!  _ What were you  _ **_thinking_ ** **!?** ” 

Jon actually winced at the sound of Arthur bellowing at him. The knight had never raised his voice like that at him before, let alone used every name that he had ever been called, or hinted at, except for Snow. The name his father had given him, the name his mother had _wanted_ , the name Uncle Ned had given him to protect him -- an old King of the North, and both his houses. He had already explained to Uncle Ned, who hadn’t liked what he had done, but understood why. Arthur, however, would be a tougher person to convince. Arthur had been looking out for him his entire life. Jon knew how much he struggled being separated from his sworn brothers in the Kingsguard, how much he hated the cold of the North, and yet he had never wavered. It made Jon feel guilty.

“My sister was scared and needed me.” Jon explained. “It was the middle of the night and she was terrified she was in danger.”

“Why?” Arthur demanded. “Her Kingsguard were there, why did she need you to drive almost 1,500 miles in the middle of the night without so much as a ‘by your leave?’”

Jon struggled. He trusted Arthur. He trusted Arthur with his life, but Rhaenys had trusted  _ him  _ with hers. “She...had reason not to trust him.” 

There was a long pause. Arthur knew the vows of the Kingsguard better than almost anyone. He had struggled with people accusing him of abandoning his post, when he came to Winterfell. “Why?” Arthur’s voice finally came across the line. 

Jon struggled with what to say exactly. “She didn’t know where the danger came from, but she...remembered Grandmother.”

Arthur let out a breath. “What will you do?”

Jon knew he understood and felt relief. “I’ll be acting as sworn shield for awhile, until we can figure out what’s going on now.”

“I’ve gotten a flight from White Harbour.” Arthur said finally. “It’s leaving in half and hour. I’m bringing your armour with me. At least you took your sword, so you haven’t forgotten  _ everything _ I taught you.”

“What? Why?” Jon demanded. “I’m fine!” 

“And I can protect you better from the White Sword Tower than from Winterfell right now.” Arthur pointed out. “I’ll make it look like I’m protecting her. Better two of us.” 

Jon couldn’t argue with that. “I’ll see you then.” Hanging up the call, he slid the phone in his pocket and left the bathroom stall, washing his face, before heading back to Sansa and Margaery’s room. He knocked once and was quickly grabbed and pulled inside the room. This time, though, instead of Rhaenys it was Arya. 

“You jackass!” Arya muttered into his chest as she hugged him. “Do you  _ know _ how worried we were?”

“I left a note.” He defended weakly. 

“A bullshit note.” Arya pointed out, jabbing him in the chest with a long finger. “Dad called Sansa and I, and we didn’t know anything! We gave you a phone, you could have at least  _ answered the damn thing. _ ”

“Arya, language!” Sansa remarked, not sounding as bothered as she usually did. Arya ignored it, as always. 

“I was driving!” 

“Like your fancy ass car doesn’t have hands-free for your phone!” Arya yelled at him. 

“Like I know how to work it!” Jon pointed out. “I barely got the GPS to work! I usually just point it in a direction and drive!”

“He hasn’t even figured out hashtags on Instagram.” Margaery pointed out in amusement, from where she was pretending to look like she was actually studying. She held her hands up defensively when Jae...Jon...whatever his name was, looked at her with wide eyes, as if she had just kicked Ghost. 

“Don’t do it again.” Arya said mulishly.

“I’m sorry.” Jon admitted. “If you had called me and needed help, you know I’d do the same for you, right?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Arya said. “Dad’s going to be upset.”

Jon winced. “He was...disappointed in me.” He hated disappointing Ned. His uncle tried so hard to make Jon a Stark in everything but name, even when it caused tension with his wife. “But he understood. Next time I’m supposed to leave a better note. Arthur was worse. He actually  _ yelled _ at me.” Of course Ned had understood, the only reason he had taken Jon in was because he loved Lyanna.

Arya looked gleeful at this news. “He’s gonna kick your ass.” Arya loved Arthur, because the Sword of the Morning had no issues with putting a practice sword in her hand. He had never given her the same amount of attention as Jon, but he had never asked her to be a ‘lady.’ His stories about Dorne had always fascinated her.

“Probably.” Jon admitted, with a laugh. 

“I brought the good sleeping bag, and some blankets, but I doubt you’ll need them for anything but softening the floor this far south.”

“Thanks, Arya.” Jon said, giving her another hug. 

“We’ll let you get your bed set up.” Sansa said from a corner, getting up and bustling the three girls from the room. “You look worn out.”

* * *

It was strange, Margaery found, to have a face to put with the username. By the time she and Sansa had returned to their room, the mysterious Jae was fast asleep on a makeshift bed on the floor. Margaery had carefully turned off the television, and she and Sansa whispered good nights and both headed to bed after the excitement of the day. Despite herself, Margaery found herself studying their guest in the dark. 

Northerners had been different from the gossip at Highgarden had painted them. Sansa was gentle and ladylike, and while Arya was wilder, she wasn’t stupid or uncultured. The younger Stark could recite blazons and words with all the accuracy of a Tyrell, not  _ her _ , but perhaps Alla or Megga.  _ This  _ Northerner was the greatest puzzle of all. She had no doubt he  _ was _ at heart, a Northerner, through the little things she had learned. All the stories of Northern men suggested she should be fearful, that they were uncouth, lacking hygiene, and caring only about their small sphere, isolationists to the core. Jae, though, had proven to be well-read, and a gentleman. He also had a surprising sense of humour that cropped up when she least expected it. 

She hoped whatever family emergency had brought him to King’s Landing, that she might have a chance to get to know him better before he headed back to Winterfell. Perhaps, when it was over, before he headed North, she could convince him to visit Highgarden with her. After all, Highgarden was only seven hundred and sixty more miles.

* * *

After sneaking back into the Red Keep with all the skill of someone raised there and familiar with all the nooks and crannies, Rhaenys quickly came to realise she was going to have to talk to her father about what had happened. There would be no way she could get away with merely suggesting her brother wanted to experience King’s Landing, or that he wanted to be a knight. In the modern era, knighthoods had drastically lowered, and they had been practically nonexistent in the North even  _ during  _ the Chivalric Age, due to the differences in religion. She couldn’t ask Jaehaerys to lie to their father about this, not when they saw each other so little. Aegon would  _ probably _ be okay with it, if it was something small, but an assassination attempt? Not even  _ he  _ would hide that. 

Sighing, she pulled out her phone and texted her father’s ‘family’ phone, which was separate from his ‘business’ phone and his ‘public’ phone. It was a little ridiculous, but she had found that it was easier to text in advance, instead of heading to her father’s apartments and getting into disagreements with the Kingsguard about whether the prince could be ‘bothered.’ That could take over forty-five minutes, and often ended with her losing her temper in a way that scared her.  _ ‘Dad, I need to talk to you. It’s urgent, and private.’ _

She bit her lip for a minute or so until, the reply dinged on her phone. ‘ _ I’m in my office. I’ve let word you’re on your way.’ _

With a sigh of relief, she continued on her usual route to her father’s apartments, where one of the guards opened the door for her, and she made her way to her father’s office, borrowed direwolf on her heels. She loved Rhaegar’s office, which was truly, more of a small library than an office, but it was where he did most of his business. Usually, they would sit and talk, and Rhaegar was surprisingly calm, but at the sight of the animal following Rhaenys, he was on his feet. “Rhaenys, why is Ghost with you?” He demanded. “Is Jaehaerys all right?”

“Jae’s fine.” Rhaenys reassured her father. “It’s me that’s in trouble. He drove down today and has Ghost guarding me for now.”

Rhaegar’s eyebrows climbed at that. “I think maybe you should start at the beginning.”

Rhaenys took a deep breath. “I will, but I want you to promise we won’t do anything until we know for sure.”

“Until we know  _ what _ for sure?” Rhaegar pressed. 

“Promise!” Rhaenys insisted. “It’s too dangerous to tell you otherwise.”

“Very well, I promise.” Rhaegar agreed, speaking as if he were tasting something sour. His curiosity always got the better of him. He always needed to  _ know _ things. It tended to get him in trouble, and if a promise would ease Rhaenys's mind, he would give it, not that he was above breaking one if necessary.

Slowly, Rhaenys dropped into one of the chairs, waiting for her father to settle back into his own, before speaking. “Last night, at dinner, there were Red Tears in my wine.” She admitted, naming the Myrish poison. “It was a shoddy job, I noticed it the moment I lifted the glass. The wine hid the colour, but it left a residue floating on top.” Red Tears was a basic poison, cheap, easy to get, and just as easy to identify. “Someone tried to kill me.”

Whatever Rhaegar had expected, it wasn’t this. “You’re sure?”

“I’m positive.” Rhaenys said with a nod. “It was the very first poison Uncle Oberyn taught me.”

“You should have alerted your Kingsguard the moment you noticed!” Rhaegar said, raising his voice, not truly angry at Rhaenys, but scared for her, and worried about what might have happened. He could take few more losses, especially with his latest efforts to be named regent stalling again. 

“Why didn’t he notice?” Rhaenys asked. “Is Uncle Oberyn’s training of a six-year-old so much better than what the Kingsguard have?”

Now Rhaegar understood, and his teeth ground. It was probably good that his daughter had extracted a promise from him, for all that he wanted to ignore it. His father was erratic and hateful toward Rhaenys, but would he truly go so far? “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure there was poison in my wine, nothing else.” Rhaenys admitted, tangling her hands in Ghost’s fur. “I don’t know who to trust, Dad. I was upset, so I called someone I do trust -- and Jae drove all day to get to King’s Landing.”

Rhaegar swallowed, remembering Lyanna, puffed up and angry, asking him,  _ him _ , of all people, if she was just supposed to walk away from a bannerman who needed her, and have his assailants go unpunished. It sounded like something her son,  _ their son _ , would do. “He would.”

“He’s a good brother.” Rhaenys replied, softly. “He gave me Ghost to guard me for tonight, but he’s going to help me figure this out. I’m taking him as a sworn shield, until I can figure out who is behind this.”

“I don’t like it.” Rhaegar said, bluntly. “While I want your brother here as much as anyone, his identity being known...the king would not react well.” The mad old coot. If he thought he could deal with the guilt, he would have killed him long ago. At this rate, though, Aerys II seemed determined to live longer than Jaehaerys’s namesake. 

“So we won’t say anything.” Rhaenys said, with a spark in her eye that reminded Rhaegar of Elia’s brothers. “We’ll list him as Jae the Black in the castle service ledgers, like they did for hedge knights Chivalric Age, and other than that, we say nothing. The court and public will speculate, but a new bodyguard isn’t that interesting. Aegon could practically build a mercenary company with all the swords he keeps on retainer.”

“He’s  _ not _ a Blackfyre.” Rhaegar said, defensively, as he always was, at the merest hint that his marriage to Lyanna may not have been valid. 

Rhaenys rolled her eyes at her father. “Black because he never _wears_ anything else, Dad.”

“Right.” Rhaegar said with a sigh. “I’ll see what I can uncover, but if you feel safer, and Jaehaerys feels as though he can handle it, I will allow your little farce. It will be midday before the clearance is set, though.”

Rhaenys squealed happily, and jumped up, hugging her father. “I love you, Dad. I promise we’ll be careful.”

“See that you are.” Rhaegar agreed, patting her on the back. “I will do my best to protect you.”

“You always do.” Rhaenys murmured into his suit. 

“I always will.” Rhaegar reassured her...and himself.  _That_ was a promise he knew he would keep.


	6. The Knight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arya is jealous, Margaery is thirsty, Arthur is too old for this shit, Aegon is sleepy, and Rhaegar is booding.

The next morning, Arya arrived with breakfast from one of the popular cafes in King’s Landing, and coffee. In an unprecedented move, she had even gotten some for Margaery.  Settled around the dorm room, with Arya and Jon on Sansa’s bed, and Sansa joining Margaery on hers, it was a surprisingly pleasant morning. At least until the reason why they were all there was brought up.

“So, what was the emergency?” Arya asked, biting into a piece of bacon. “Are you heading back today?”

“You should at least take a day off to rest.” Margaery pointed out. “All that driving!”

“My sister called, she thinks someone is stalking her.” Jon improvised. “She didn’t feel safe, so she called me.”

Arya was a bit put out. She hated sharing Jon with Rhaenys and Aegon. She wasn’t even very good sharing him with Robb, Sansa, Bran and Rickon. In her mind, Jon was _her_ brother, in a way none of the others were. They were the ones who looked like Starks, them against the world. Half the reason she had come up with the idea of a new phone was to keep him closer to her when she was away in King’s Landing, especially when Sansa was off doing Sansa-things like sewing or painting classes. She ignored that, though. “All settled, then?”

“Nah.” Jon replied, shaking his head. “I’m going to stick around until the guy gets caught. She’s pulling some strings to get me a job in the castle.”

“Great.” Arya said, somehow managing to keep the sarcasm out of her voice. She had hoped that the Targaryens would never show up and steal her brother, but apparently, it was starting. “We’ll still have time to meet up, though, right? With you right here in the city?”

“I’m sure.” Jon said, squeezing her shoulders. “And I won’t head back to Winterfell without telling you.”

Arya glanced at her sister, but Sansa looked just as worried as she felt. “Good.” How safe could it possibly be at the castle? Hadn’t he been sent to Winterfell specifically to avoid the castle? She didn't like it.

* * *

 Margaery was frustrated. She was one of the few women in her classes and even now some of the classes held by Maesters looked down on her. Grumbling to herself, she slammed back into her dorm room, mind so focused on her latest project for Westerosi Politics 304 that she had forgotten all about Jae being in her room. She dropped her books on her bed, muttering about writing Grandmother about the idiots, when she turned to find herself face-to-face with a black knight.

_Seven hells!_ Margaery was not unused to knights. While there were fewer and fewer, The Reach rivaled the Crownlands for highest number of knights. It was something about the decadence and old courtly games her family loved that kept it an ambition for Reachers. Both Garlan and Loras were knights, and she had embroidered more than one ridiculous livery, but the knight in her dorm was different.

She couldn’t help the way her eyes travelled over him -- the armour she was used to was colourful and highly decorative, blazoned, filigreed, and polished to a mirror shine. It was also usually worn by men that were more...slender and less... _solid_. Jae was completely different, and the cheap tile floor and standard dorm furniture made it seem even more surreal. His armour was polished, but black, and completely without any symbols on it. His armour was as much a mystery as he was, although it did tell her just how much muscle was hiding beneath that jumper he had been wearing yesterday. Despite herself, she wondered if she could possibly find a way to get him into some of the tight clothes Loras enjoyed. Her eyes continued their slow journey until they met his and her heart stuttered. His dark grey-blue eyes were almost black on hers and she bit her lip despite herself.

What was _wrong_ with her? She couldn’t think of anything to say, any smooth, flirtatious way to break the moment, like Grandmother had taught her. Something about him, about his expression, just... _transfixed_ her.

* * *

 Arthur Dayne rolled his eyes as he stood to the side and gave his charge another onceover. He’d remark again about how Jaehaerys really _did_ need to go to a blacksmith and have his armour reworked soon, the boy had put at least another five pounds of muscle on since the last time he had been fitted, but Jaehaerys wouldn’t have heard him.

He had seen this before, but at least Jaehaerys wasn’t already married, or even betrothed. Arthur would have to say something to Rhaegar, because the ‘mysterious sworn shield,’ was a nice story and all, but Jae was an adult now and would need some sort of name and title in order to marry...especially if he wanted to marry the daughter of a Lord Paramount.

Which he _did_ , if the soulful look that was going on was any indication. If Rhaegar had been in his son’s place, he would have already turned poetic. Jaehaerys, however, did not have his father’s artistic soul. He was quieter than Rhaegar, and while no less prone to brooding, he was useless with the high harp. He was the opposite of his father. Rhaegar had been a natural scholar and a skilled if reluctant warrior. Jaehaerys was a natural warrior and a skilled, if reluctant scholar. If Queen Rhaella had swallowed a book for Rhaegar, Princess Lyanna had swallowed her weirwood shield for Jaehaerys.

“Come on, Jae. We need to get you to the castle.” He said, finally.

Startled, Jaehaerys shook himself like his direwolf, and once the spell had broken, smiled at the girl. “It was lovely to meet you, finally, Margaery.” He said, with a polite and proper bow. “I hope while we’re both in King’s Landing, we have a chance to spend some more time together.”

Margaery dipped into a curtsy, ingrained in her from before she could walk as easily as breathing. “I’m sure we will.” She said, with a smile, moving out of his way, to reach the door. “And I’ll keep an eye on your Instagram.”

* * *

 ‘ _I know something you don’t know._ ’

‘ _Bugger off, rhae, its to early’_

_‘You sleep too much. Someone could come in to kill you and you would be none the wiser.’_

_‘Thats y I have ducking sworn swords for.’_

_‘I’m getting one today. And I think he could beat you.’_

_‘Could nt.’_

_‘Only one way to know, though, right? Come to the practise ring after lunch. Bet you five golden dragons he beats you.’_

_‘Fine. Now let me sleep.’_

Aegon threw his phone back onto his bedside table, and flipped the covers back over his head. Two minutes later, he huffed and threw his covers back down. He flipped over onto his stomach and buried his head into his pillow.

Fuck, he was never getting back to sleep.

* * *

 Rhaegar was brooding again. This was not particularly strange, but his worries had shifted quite a bit in the last ten hours. Jaehaerys was coming home. It was a long time coming, but even now it wasn’t as Rhaegar would have wished. He spared more than a few uncharitable thoughts toward his father. If the man had just recognised Jaehaerys when Lyanna was pregnant, or even when their son was a babe in arms this deceit wouldn’t be necessary. His children could have grown up together. The mad old coot just wouldn’t _die_ , and he needed to get enough support from the nobility to get a regency, where he could shove Aerys into one of the lavish apartments saved for crazy Targaryens within the Red Keep.

That said, he didn’t believe Aerys had tried to kill Rhaenys. Aerys wasn’t what anyone could call ‘subtle.’ He was more ‘publically burn people alive,’ than ‘poison their wine.’ He could have asked someone to murder Rhaenys, of course, but who would have used such a cheap and easily identified poison? The Grand Maester had more deadly concoctions in his healer’s kit.

His ruminations were broken by the sound of his daughter’s giggle as the door to his study opened, and he turned from the window in surprise.

“Dad.” Rhaenys said with a brief bob that might have been a curtsy, before closing the door behind her, despite the cross looks on their faces. She gave him an impish smile. “May I present Jae the Black, my new sworn sword.”

Rhaegar moved slowly over to the dark knight, finding it almost hard to believe, but he could see so _much_ of Lyanna and even old family features, he would have known him instantly. Instead, he reached out and embraced his son, holding him tight. “No.” He said softly. “Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen, named for the wisest of us, and my brother who had no chance at life.”

Rhaenys dipped her head in agreement. “In truth and in fire and blood.” She agreed. “But he’s still Jae the Black for now.”

Rhaegar relaxed when Jaehaerys returned his embrace. For a moment, just for a moment, all his plotting and melancholy was truly gone, and his family was almost whole.

Almost. _Lyanna_ , he thought to himself. _Look at our boy._


	7. The Mystery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The media starts going wild, Rhaenys and Jon play a trick on Aegon, Margaery gets feelings she won't name and there is coffee.

**@keeppeepers:** _#Spotted_ at the _#redkeep_ this morning, a new _#knight_ . No _#housesigils_ or _#housewords_ . A little _#black_ for _#princeaegon_ ‘s _#goldencompany_ of guards. Any thoughts **@crownwatch**?

* * *

 Jon had a busy morning, wandering around and being introduced around to various guards, all of whom looked at him as though they thought he was a possible threat. The fact that he kept pulling himself up a little taller and was suspicious of everyone may not have helped.

After the emotional meeting with his father, though, Jon was glad to follow Rhaenys into the practise yard. This, at least, was normal. Not here, of course, not with all these people watching, but Arthur was not for nothing the Sword of the Morning and had put a wooden sword in Jon’s hand from the time he could walk.

“Want to get one over on Young Griff?” Rhaenys asked, eyes glinting with amusement.

Jon grinned back. “What do you have in mind?”

Rhaenys’s smile turned into a smirk. “I’m putting money on you. Put on your helm and kick his arse before he figures out who you are. Then when he’s all cross, take off your helm.”

Jon laughed, and put his helm on, a little moved by just how much faith his older sister had in him. By the time he had warmed up with several of the hedge knights of the castle and one of Aegon’s sworn swords, Aegon himself had appeared.

“So, you’re my sister’s new sworn sword, huh?” Aegon asked, in his gleaming golden armour, looking over the black knight in what he widely considered _his_ territory, for all that it was used by any swordsmen with clearance in the keep. “She says you’re good.”

“I don’t think she’d choose a sword who wasn’t, your royal highness.” Jon answered, purposefully modulating his voice down and trying to put a Riverlands accent on his words.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Aegon answered, narrowing his eyes.

“I’d be honoured.” Jon replied, struggling to keep up the voice.

* * *

  **@crownwatch** : Sent in by an anonymous source at the castle: _#princeaegon_ takes on the new # _blackknight_ , said to be _#princessrhaenys_ ‘s new _#swornsword_ . Could we be seeing the beginnings of a new _#danceofdragons_ ?

* * *

It was a practise fight, but neither Jon or Aegon was was _taking it easy_ . The two young men were crossing steel and trading blows with a savage grace that was rarely seen in these modern times. If some of the men who were watching seemed slightly abashed, it was probably because these two were _better_. Aegon was a common sight here, but he was the rarely-defeated champion.

The two men were focused on their battle, there was no time for teasing banter or fancy flourishes. This was serious, and unknown to them, they were fighting for the same reason, to prove themselves.

Jon hadn’t had a workout like this against someone his own age (or close to it,) since Catelyn had forbidden him from practising with Robb. Aegon was good, _really good_ , but he lacked versatility. Jon saw an opening and quickly switched his sword to his other hand before bringing the sword down in what could have been a fatal strike against Aegon’s weaker side, had he not stopped the blade. He didn’t register the gasps or the titters of gossip. It seemed an entirely practical move to him, who had been trained to use any and all advantages he could, if they were still honourable.

“Yield!” Aegon puffed out, as he fell back. Despite himself, he was impressed. “You’re good, you’re very good.”

“Pay up.” Rhaenys insisted, holding a hand out to her brother.

Aegon groaned, but nodded to one of his sworn swords, who turned over the five golden dragons. “I’ll get you next time.” He warned his opponent.

Jon sheathed his sword before he ripped off his helm and shook out his dark locks. “I think I’ve heard that before.” He teased.

“Jae?” Aegon gasped, jaw falling open. He handed his sword to one of his men blankly, before crossing over to his brother and pulling him into an embrace, whapping him on the back with his fist. “Seven hells! You’re staying?”

“For the foreseeable future.” Jon agreed with a grin. “Maybe you can finally teach me to win a game of cyvasse.”

“He’s not a miracle worker, Jae.” Rhaenys snorted in amusement.

* * *

  **@royalroundup:** _#spotted_ out in _#kingslanding_ : _#princessrhaenys_ out with the knight only known as _#jaetheblack_ at _#thegreatseptofbaelor_ . The two look pretty cosy. Could we be hearing _#weddingbells_ someday soon?

* * *

 Margaery was looking over her feed when she saw the photo -- Jae, following behind Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, at the Great Sept. Despite herself, she felt a stab of annoyance and something else she had no desire to name. The one consolation was the fact that no matter what people on Instagram thought, Jae looked uncomfortable to her.

“Sansa.” Margaery managed, trying to sound casual. “Jae’s not... _interested_...in Princess Rhaenys is he?”

Sansa immediately made a face. “ _Ugh_! No, of course not!”

Arya, who had strangely been spending more time with her sister since Jae’s descent onto King’s Landing, looked grim. “There’s precedent.”

Sansa made a face, and threw a pillow at her sister. “Don’t be gross. You know he’d never.”

“ _Jon_ wouldn’t.” Arya agreed. “Who knows about _Jae_.”

“They’re the same person!” Sansa argued. “The only reason he was called Jon was so he would fit in at Winterfell and in the North.”

“Yeah well.” Arya muttered. “We’ll see.”

Margaery became even more intrigued, and was glad for the explanation about the two names that had been tossed around upon his arrival in King’s Landing. She eyed the picture again, before switching over to the direct message thread she kept up with Jae.

_You look so uncomfortable at the Sept!_

A few minutes later the reply came, and it made her smile.

_‘I’d have been more comfortable visiting your godswood, for all that it’s further south.’_

* * *

  **@crownwatch:** _#spotted_ in # _redroostcafé_ near _#klu_ _#princessrhaenys_ and _#jaetheblack_ having pastries.

* * *

 Margaery hadn’t expected to see Jae that day. In the week and a half since he had started his job in the castle as Princess Rhaenys’s sworn sword he had only been able to stop by and see them...well, Sansa...once. It was, however, seeing Rhaenys and Jae next to one another that made the pieces click together.

Rhaenys didn’t look like a Targaryen, she had her mother’s Dornish colouring, but next to Jae, they looked very similar indeed, possibly because they both had dark hair, that made them look even more alike. The details you just couldn’t quite understand in photos came out more, like the sharp edge of cheekbones or the way the curve of the neck, the symmetry of the face.

Jae the Black...Jae could easily be short for Jaehaerys, couldn’t it? She knew for a fact that the Stark sword was called Ice..she had always thought his Instagram name cute, if a bit juvenile with the olde time spelling of fire, but what if the ‘fyre’ in the name was a reference to Blackfyre, the ancestral sword of the Targaryens...and the traditional bastard name of the royal family.

Pulling out her phone, she quickly texted Sansa.

‘ _Is Jae a Blackfyre?’_

A minute went by, before the reply came.

‘ _Jae’s not a bastard, Margaery. He’s trueborn.’_

Margaery considered this, especially what Sansa _wasn’t_ saying, and then did some math. The Great Folly had happened close to her birth, where Sansa’s uncle and grandfather had been killed for some unnamed treason by the king, usually considered tied in to  Robert Baratheon's attempted coup and exile after loudly accusing Prince Rhaegar of kidnapping his fiancee -- _Lyanna Stark._ Lyanna, however, had talked to her brother and to her friends and told them not to revolt, died some short months later.

Jae had told her that his parents had wed before the old gods. An old gods ceremony didn’t need a septon, and wasn’t recorded in the annals of the Faith. Lyanna’s death so soon after her disappearance could have been due to a death in childbirth, which would explain why he had been fostered with a Lord Paramount -- Eddard Stark was his _uncle_ , and no Lord Paramount would turn down a fosterage request from the Crown Prince. If Jae’s sister was truly scared someone was stalking her, Jae’s new role as Princess Rhaenys’s sworn sword made a lot more sense if his sister was actually _Princess Rhaenys_.

She bought another coffee to go before returning to her seat. Jae always teased her about her coffee choices until she had dared him to drink a some ridiculous concoction she had designed on the fly. Now he bowed to her greater knowledge of fancy coffee drinks. Grabbing her red sharpie, she quickly scrawled on the cup.

_‘Because I’m the only person who knows you don’t drink your coffee ‘black,’ anymore.’_ She doodled a rose underneath the message, and then took a deep breath. Walking by the table, she leaned over and placed it by his hand, and gave him a wink. “Tell your sister I say hello.”


	8. The Future

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon broods like his father. Arthur and Rhaenys try to fix things

Rhaenys Targaryen watched the other woman leave the cafe, and the blush that painted her brother’s cheeks. Now _this_ was interesting. She and Aegon had never been able to have normal romantic lives. “Who was _that_ , Jae?”

Jae, if it was possible coloured even more, which made her even more interested. “That’s Margaery. She’s…” Her little brother floundered for words, making several aborted gestures before sighing. “She’s my friend, and Sansa’s roommate.”

Something clicked for Rhaenys. “Margaery, as in Margaery _Tyrell_ ? Of _Highgarden_ ” She asked. It took another second, but she remembered suddenly, the girl that commented on almost all of Jae’s photos. “Is _she_ the girl who comments on all your photos?”

Jon nodded, taking a long drink from the spicy-sweet coffee Margaery had given him, running his thumb over the red rose.

“Do you...do you _like_ her, Jae?” Rhaenys asked, trying to understand the source of the brooding expression that had suddenly transformed her brother’s face.

“Doesn’t matter if I do.” Jae answered, tossing back the last of the coffee. “Jae the Black doesn’t have any more chance than Jon Snow with the daughter of a Lord Paramount, especially not Mace Tyrell’s only daughter.”

Rhaenys felt her heart go out to her brother, and reached across the table to take his hand. “You know what Dad said.” She reminded him. “We’ll figure out a way.”

“He’s been trying since before I was born.” Jae pointed out. “Nothing will change.”

“Yes it will.” Rhaenys growled. “We will _make_ it.”

* * *

  **@keeppeepers:** The return of _#arthurdayne_ to the **@kingsguard** ! The reappearance of the _#swordofthemorning_ and his assignment to _#princessrhaenys_ makes us wonder if there is suspicion on _#jaetheblack_.

* * *

 Arthur Dayne had missed his white armour, his white cloak, and his brothers in the White Sword Tower. He had often longed to return from Winterfell, but now that he had, he found himself feeling strangely disconnected. Only the Lord Commander knew why he had been “missing” for so many years, and the suspicions of dereliction of duty made his brothers colder. What was more, he had become used to having his charge look to him for guidance as well as comfortable with his presence. Since his return, and Jaehaerys’s choice to take up a position as his sister’s guard, that left him guarding both of them, and Rhaenys was unsure of him. He understood why, but it did not make his job any easier.

He found himself grateful, then, that both he and Jaehaerys had been assigned to the guards’ chamber beside Rhaenys’s rooms. There was comfort and familiarity in that, from the nights when he had haunted a sickly baby’s chambers, as if he was a maester instead of a knight. It had this far been amusing, talking late into the knight, or playing cyvasse until Jaehaerys gave up with a laugh. Tonight, however, Jaehaerys was silently sitting on his bed, running a cleaning cloth over his sword. It had been spotless when he started, and now it shone.

Arthur had known Jaehaerys since he was newly born, and had known his father longer than that. He knew a melancholic Targaryen when he saw one. “Let’s go out to the practice ring, Jae.” He suggested softly. “Rhaenys is with your father. We’ll return before she does.”

It said something to the turmoil of his mind that Jaehaerys didn’t argue.

* * *

  **@highgardenrose** : A beautiful _#rose_ I found taped to my door. I love golden roses, but this one, with red tips, is probably my favourite I’ve ever gotten. Thank you, whoever left it.

* * *

 Rhaenys was back in her father’s study, leaning forward, fingers steepled. “We need to talk about marriage, Dad.” She said honestly.

Rhaegar choked on his wine, eyes widening. “Have you...met someone?”

Rhaenys rolled her eyes. “How?” She queried. “Aegon and I are too well known, and are constantly shadowed by guards. It’s not like we have a chance to meet romantic partners.” She shook her head. “No, but I have thoughts.”

“What are your thoughts?” Rhaegar asked, looking slightly nauseous. “Matches can be...problematic, especially if you fall in love later.”

Rhaenys nodded, she understood his intentions, that he was speaking from experience, Lyanna had been the closest her father had ever come to true love, for all that he _cared_ about her mother. “I know, but the kingdom must come first.” She waited for him to wave to continue, and began to count off on her fingers. “Dorne will follow us because of Aegon and I, the North will follow for Jaehaerys, Stannis Baratheon is already married and his daughter is young. None of the other houses in the Stormlands show real position to be considered. The Riverlands have Lord Edmure Tully, who is still eligible, and The Vale...” She clucked her tongue. “With Jon Arryn’s death, his son is Lord Paramount with rumours of an oddness to him -- but House Royce could be a stronger ally and cement connections. Ser Andar is..interesting.” She made a bit of a face. “As far as the Westerlands, I don’t know that there are any good options. Lord Tyrion is there, but I doubt he would be respected as a king, already they call him an imp, and his brother is sworn to the Kingsguard.”

“You left out The Reach.” Rhaegar pointed out. “Lord Tyrell has three sons, and their house is quite powerful.”

“And already utterly loyal, because they have never forgotten they were once stewards.” Rhaenys pointed out. “Besides, Jae’s in love with Margaery Tyrell, when they marry, The Reach will fall in gratefully. It would be pointless for both of us to marry into the same House.” Rhaegar’s face went through several interesting emotions, just as Rhaenys anticipated. “So, what do you think, Dad, should it be Ser Ander or Lord Edmure?” She continued, as if she hadn’t just catapulted a rather large rock at him.

Rhaegar blinked and held up his hand. “What do you mean Jaehaerys is in love with Margaery Tyrell?”

Rhaenys waved off the question. “Oh, he’s mad for her. He just spent the entire afternoon brooding after she gave him a coffee. I don’t think he realises just how bad he has it.”

Rhaenys watched her father’s face in interest. She knew he was not accustomed to thinking of any of them as ‘grown,’ and Jae probably even less so, because before the attempt on her life, they had all seen him so rarely, and he was the youngest of the three of them.

“I think…” Rhaegar said slowly. “That we should have a ball.  Wee all the eligible young men and women from the houses. You can get to know your options as people.”

Rhaenys considered that. “Not before Jae’s validated.” She said after a moment. “It’ll hurt him so much more if Aegon and I are out meeting people, dancing and courting, and all he can do is...guard.” She chuckled. “I think Aegon would leave the sparring ring sore for a month if Mace were to corner him into dancing with Margaery.”

“Rhaenys…” Rhaegar sighed. “You know I want to. Your grandfather won’t allow it. He remembers Brandon and Rickon all too well.” He spread his hands. “I don’t have enough support for a regency.”

“Who do you need?” Rhaenys queried.

“Who else?” Rhaegar asked, with a sad laugh. “Velaryon, Staunton, and Chelsted.”

Rhaenys clicked her tongue in thought. “Let me see what I can do.”

“Rhaenys, this is royal politics…” Rhaegar protested. "It's dangerous."

“And I’m a princess who has been studying it since I could walk.” Rhaenys answered. “Let me see what I can do.”

“And until then?” Rhaegar asked, worriedly. “Someone has already tried for your life once.”

“I’m a dragon.” Rhaenys answered, more confidently than she felt. “Let them come.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a giant nerd about flowers. A yellow rose with red tips means friendship turning into love.


	9. The Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things go sideways.

**@kingslandinggazette:** In unprecedented move, Princess Rhaenys throws support and money behind expanding the Velaryon fleet. What does this mean for the kingdom? _CLICK_ to find out what our experts say!

* * *

 Rhaenys Targaryen was not an idiot. She knew she wouldn’t be able to get support from the three lords holding the small council at a stalemate between powers. They enjoyed the power and pride of place in Aerys’s good favour all too much. She, however, knew intimately _just_ how fickle her grandfather’s favour was. He saw conspiracies everywhere, which is why he made it impossible for a Great Council to be called legally. She didn’t have to _actually_ turn the three lords, she just had to make her grandfather become convinced that she _had_ turned them, or that they were somehow indebted to her. His paranoia and demands for loyalty would take care of the rest. The lords would have to choose between saving their own skins by granting her father his regency and removing Aerys’s power before he had them dealt with -- or they would be too slow, and Aerys would remove them from the board and restaff the Small Council, who would become even more convinced of his volatility. Either way, she won. She knew the media and she, unlike a lot of the lords, understood social media. Her father kept trying to come at them like a knight at joust and failing-- she’d come at them like her cousins, the sand snakes.

* * *

  **highgardenrose:** Post _#allnighter_ _#nomakeup #nofilter #selfie_ . Now I just need to make myself human before this killer _#exam_ _#klulife #whoneedssleep_

* * *

 The fact that he had been guarded his entire life actually worked in his favour when he was trying to _be_ a guard, Jon found. He had learned from experience just how close was suffocating, and how far was too far. The other Kingsguard kept a slightly wider distance than Arthur, he noted, but he mimicked Arthur. Besides, Rhaenys liked to talk to him when he was following her around, unlike a lot of the Kingsguard, and his relationship with Arthur had been almost-familial so it seemed like the best measure to judge.

They were out in King’s Landing today, he, Rhaenys, Arthur, and Ghost. There had been another Kingsguard supposed to show, but he had been called away by the king before they had left the Red Keep. A new exhibition was going on at the Hall of History and Rhaenys had wanted to go, so they were going. There was something, though, as they were walking, that just wasn’t setting right with him. “Rh...Your Highness, I think we should turn back.” He hissed in an undertone, grabbing her arm and stopping her movement. He didn’t _see_ anyone following them, but his gut was quite clear that this was a bad idea. As if to confirm it, Ghost pinned his ears back and had started to growl.

Rhaenys looked like she was going to argue, but then she looked between his face and Ghost and nodded. When he had spoken, Arthur had started scanning the crowd, and they turned back from the square they had been approaching back into the street with enclosed shops. As if someone had slapped him, Ghost suddenly dove into the crowd, growling. “Let’s go go!” Arthur demanded, pushing them to go quicker.

There was a sharp cry, and Jon saw something flying at them. Not knowing what it was, and not particularly caring, he reacted without really thinking, stepping into Rhaenys’s spot and pushing her hard at Arthur. He saw her stumble and Arthur catch her, just as something shattered on his armour, and all he felt was heat.

* * *

**BREAKING NEWS:** Fire Attack on Princess Rhaenys Puts Sworn Sword in Hospital.

On Weaver Road this afternoon a violent attack took place. The target seems to have been HRH Princess Rhaenys, who is uninjured, thanks to the quick actions of the Kingsguard. Three civilians and Ser Jae the Black, the princess’s sworn shield, are currently being treated for injuries, their status is currently unknown. A suspect has been apprehended by Ser Jae’s dog, who took after the perpetrator, he is currently in the custody of the Kingsguard. It appears as though the perpetrator was trying to create wildfire and failed, though his motives are currently unknown.

* * *

Margaery sat on an uncomfortable plastic chair in the waiting room of Royal Writ Hospital, her phone in her hands, and alternating between staring at the screen and glancing up at the television, where the grainy cameraphone footage of the attack on Priincess Rhaenys was being alternated with journalists and political "experts" discussing it.

 She had been sitting in the waiting room for five hours now. Sansa and Arya had been allowed in, claiming Jae as kin, which was backed up by Arthur. Once Rhaenys had been checked out, though, he had to return her to the castle under high guard. She, of course, was nothing to Jae, so they would tell her nothing, only the fact that she had driven Arya and Sansa and been waiting here with them when they were finally allowed in the room had let her get this far.

She stared down at the phone again. It was a stupid, silly thing to keep grabbing her attention, but it did, nonetheless. Jae had broken his ‘no emojis’ rule in order to wish her luck on her exam that morning. She had been so frazzled and busy, reciting legal precedents in her head that she had glanced at it and not replied.

Now she wished she had.

The drone of the television was suddenly drowned out as doors were flung in and Prince Rhaegar Targaryen strode through them. Two septas, dressed in hospital whites, were chattering at him about ‘ _highly unusual_ ,’ and ‘ _Your Highness_.’

“ _I’m_ going in that room.” Rhaegar told them, all of the gentle charm he was famous for gone. “You’re staying out _here_.” A growl had entered his voice, and upon spotting her, he gestured. “And she’s coming with me, or _by the Seven, I’ll have you all thrown in the Black Cells with the man who did this!_ ”

They stopped arguing.


	10. The Next Step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery scolds Jon, Rhaenys cuddles with animals, and Rhaegar encounters Varys.

Jae was awake, which took an enormous weight off of Margaery’s chest, for all that the burns he had suffered looked dreadful against the white sheets. Knowing she still shouldn’t be here, she stuck to the edges, grateful to the prince for getting her inside and not wanting the temper he had showcased at the Septas on her. She sat in a chair on the edge of the room, knowing he hadn’t seen her yet, too focused on Arya, who was sitting on his bed, and Sansa, sitting at his side.

“Is Rhae okay?” Jae asked, when Rhaegar entered his field of vision, since he had some sort of brace on his neck. Margaery thought it oddly adorable that he would refer to a princess of the realm by a nickname, as if ‘Rhae,’ were just another girl.

“She’s fine.” Rhaegar reassured him. “A little shaken, but the fire didn’t get close enough to even singe her, thanks to you and Arthur.” He frowned. “ _You_ on the other hand, are going to be on bed rest for the next week, while the burns heal.”

Jae frowned at that. “A day, maybe two.” He argued. “Long enough to prevent infection, but a week is too long. What’s the point in _having_ a Maester, if I’m stuck in this place?”

“You are _staying here_.” Rhaegar ordered firmly. “The Grand Maester’s loyalties are unknown, and I don’t want him looking too closely at you. If Aerys knew, well…” He trailed off. “I lost your mother, Jaehaerys, I won’t lose you.”

Jae huffed out an annoyed breath, obviously wanting to argue, but as he opened his mouth, she slid up to his side, and placed two fingers on the inside of his forearm, where there were no bandages. “Please, Jae?” She pleaded, using all the tricks she had learned at Highgarden. “I felt so horrible, thinking that you could have died and I never would have thanked you for that last message. I promise I’ll visit every day and keep you company so you won’t get bored, and I’m sure Sansa and Arya will too.”

“Margaery?” Jaehaerys asked, surprised, twisting his face to get a better look at her. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Margaery drawled, channeling Olenna when someone said something utterly _stupid_ . “Here, the man who cheers me up and sends me cute pictures of his direwolf threw himself in front of a fireball to protect his sister, and ended up in the hospital. _Obviously_ , I should be in my dorm highlighting my homework.” She rubbed the uninjured spot again. “I care about you, you ridiculous man -- and when your father yelled threats at the septas, they weren’t about to argue.”

Jae’s eyes flicked back to Rhaegar in surprise. “You _yelled_?” He repeated. “You never yell! I once ranted at you for an hour and you just watched me and then said, ‘I’m sorry that you feel I’ve failed you,’ in the calmest voice I’d ever heard.”

Rhaegar shook his head at his son. “You weren’t saying anything that say, that I hadn’t argued or heard from myself, Jae. You had every right to be angry, seven hells, you _still_ do.”

Jae shook his head slowly, a pained look crossing his face, and Margaery reached down a little further to take his hand, gingerly -- she had a feeling that look wasn’t from his burns. “No,” he said slowly. “I know better now. You never gave up. You tried to create a place for me here, and when Rhae brought me…” He shook his head. “It’s not perfect, but I’m not angry at you. Just...sad.”

Rhaegar nodded. “We all are.”

* * *

  **@crownwatch** : _#princessrhaenys_ already out of hospital and her chambers, following the dreadful _#fireattack_ seen here with _#masteroflaws_ and _#handoftheking_ . Are we seeing support build for a future _#queenoftherealm_ in the _#smallcouncil_?

* * *

 It had been easier than she had expected to bring suspicion on Chelsted and Staunton. They had come together to express their horror and their sympathy about the attack on her, and she had gotten Aegon to take a picture surreptitiously while they paid their socially required respects. After that, well, all that needed to happen was to drop the picture to the biggest royal watchers on Instagram and Twitter, and wait.

Everyone told her that she should be resting. In fact, no-one would _stop_ telling her she should be resting, but none of them understood. When she had told her father she was a dragon, it was more hope and ambition than anything else. Inside, she felt more like her cat. She had named the kitten Balerion, and everyone had scoffed at the idea of some stray kitchen moggie being named after the great dragon. Balerion was soft and Rhaenys loved that cat. When she was little she had pretended that Balerion was the freat dragon himself. He had been her first and staunchest ally, the one she had whispered all her fears and dreams to, when her grandfather’s slings and arrows had gotten under her skin. Even now, in her room, she curled up with the old tomcat, trying to marshal her strength. She couldn’t let doubt in now. No matter how she sometimes felt, she was a Targaryen and not an imposter, no matter what Aerys said.

Ghost let out a woof from the floor and jumped up on the bed, sandwiching her between the two animals. “Well, at least the pets love me.” She joked aloud.

* * *

  **Suspect in Fire Attack on HRH Princess Rhaenys Under Interrogation**

The suspect captured in yesterday’s fire attack on HRH Princess Rhaenys is in custody and undergoing interrogation, according to a member of the Kingsguard. HRH Crown Prince Rhaegar has ordered the Kingsguard and City Watch to sweep for any person or persons who may have aided in the attack. No word yet on a trial. HRH King Aerys, Second of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm has stated that any attack on a member of the royal family is to be treated as high treason.

* * *

 Rhaegar walked up the many stairs from the black cells slowly, trying to measure his gait and the dimming rage in his chest. The coward was a pawn, of that he had no doubt. A poor man paid to throw something. Rhaegar might feel some pity for the man, knowing how his father’s policies had strapped the smallfolk, but he had chosen to knowingly throw something at his _daughter_ and had put his _youngest son_ in the hospital. Those facts had burned any pity he might have felt away. Two of his children could have been _killed_ , and while he had believed Rhaenys about the poison in her wine, it had seemed less...serious than this. It sounded horrible to say, but no nobleman with access to a Maester had died from Red Tears in an age. The symptoms were too obvious and too easy to counteract. This? His children could have _died._

It said something about how deep he was in his own mind, that Varys was beside him before he heard him approach. “Good evening, Your Highness.”

“Varys.” Rhaegar replied with a nod.

“Your daughter’s maneuvering with Staunton and Chelsted is refreshing. I do hope she is well?”

“She is recovering.” Rhaegar replied, not at all sure what Rhaenys had been doing with Staunton and Chelsted, though he had known she had some plans.

“Well, do pass my well-wishes on to your children.” Varys said simply. “It is best for the realm if they _all_ recover quickly.”


	11. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Margaery and Jon have a moment.  
> There is a death in the Red Keep.  
> Rhaenys's plans have consequences, but her schemes carry on.

**@dragonsdaily:** _#kingsguard_ have been posted outside the ward where the people injured in the _#fireattack_ , notably _#serjaetheblack_ are recuperating. Both _#princerhaegar_ and _#princessrhaenys_ as well as a _#mysterymaiden_ have been said to visit.

* * *

 Jon hated feeling like a burden. He had felt like a burden for most of his life, to Uncle Ned, to Arthur, to his father. That had started to change after he moved to King’s Landing, when he had heard in Uncle Ned’s voice how worried he was, when Arthur had _yelled_ at him, but supported him anyway, and when his father had embraced him and refused to call him by the name Rhaenys had devised. This time, however, tasted even more bitter, as the door to his hospital room opened and Margaery Tyrell walked in, bringing her sunshine smiles with her, even as she took off the sunglasses and wig she used when she visited.

“Hey, Jae.” Margaery said, cheerfully, as she took her now-usual seat at his bedside. “How are you today?”

_Itchy. Restless. Sick of being here._ All these answers came to mind, but Jon didn’t say any of them. It wouldn’t be polite, and as much as it ached to see Margaery every day, he didn’t want her to stop coming either. “All right, I suppose. Ready to get out of this bed."

Margaery frowned a bit at that. “Have they said when they’ll release you?”

“If all goes well, at the end of the week.” Jon replied, trying not to sound as though the very thought thrilled him.

Margaery sighed, and then slid from the chair to sit on the corner of the bed. “I suppose I shall have to be happy for you.” She admitted. “But I know when you leave here, you’ll return to guarding the princess, and I’ll barely see you. I’ll miss being able to come here and tell you about my horrible teachers or the stupid thing Garlan did today. It’s selfish of me, but I’ve liked having this time to get to know you and hear about the North and your families and all of that.”

“I’ve liked seeing you everyday too.” Jon admitted, unable to stop his grin. “You could come see me at the castle, though, couldn’t you?”

“Could I?” Margaery asked, looking into his clear, expressive eyes. “Would you want me to?”

“Yes.” Jon admitted. “I’d like that. Your visits are one of the only things keeping me sane here.”

Margaery smiled, and then leaned in, and kissed him. It was supposed to be just a swift, chaste, gentle kiss -- but he feeling of it made her gasp. “Jae,”She murmured, pulling back and biting her lip. “Is...was that okay?”

“Margaery, I...” Jon answered, and then, not knowing what possessed him, knowing it was reckless and stupid, and that they could never have a future, because she was the daughter of a Lord Paramount and he was a prince hidden and unacknowledged as a lowly sworn sword, with no name or property to offer -- he kissed her again, winding his fingers through her chestnut curls, and kissing her like it was his only chance. It _wasn’t_ okay, but for the moment, vulnerable and cranky, he would pretend it was. That they could have a future.

* * *

  **BREAKING NEWS:** **Master of Ships Confesses to Treason! Executed By The King Himself After Interrogation In The Black Cells!**

* * *

Rhaenys sat at her window, looking out over King’s Landing, pensive. She had killed a man. Oh, not by her own hand, she hadn’t stabbed him in the belly or slipped poison in his wine, but he had committed no crime she had known of, and her actions had resulted in his death. She hadn’t _wanted_ him to die, but she had known it was a possibility when she had started her scheming. Velaryon was a politician, but he was also exceedingly loyal to her grandfather.

Perhaps things would have gone differently if the attack on her hadn’t come so swiftly after her throwing her support behind his fleet expansion. Castle gossip had put the two things together and flared her grandfather’s temper faster than anticipated. The ignominious traitor’s death that Velaryon had suffered had quickly brought the other two on side. Staunton out of self-preservation and Chelsted out of self-preservation and threats of Aerys to burn the city. They now had almost full control of the small council and she knew just how to turn the newest member.

She approached slyly, secretly. There would be no photos of this meeting, no spying handmaidens. She wanted no harm to come to _this_ Master of Ships. It was, perhaps, a bit rude to slide into his chambers unannounced, but it was safest...although not for his wine, which he spilled on his clothes.

“My apologies, Lord Tyrell, Lady Olenna, I did not mean to startle you.” Rhaenys apologised, with a proper curtsy, although not low enough to be seen as submissive.

“Oh, ho, no harm done, Your Highness!” Mace Tyrell replied, wiping a handkerchief across his brow. He still looked nervous, and Rhaenys couldn’t blame him. Velaryon ha dmet with her only scant days before 

Rhaenys clapped her hands enthusiastically, just once. “Oh good. I was _so_ hoping Father would bring you to King’s Landing, and Grandfather did it for him!”

“And why is that, Your Highness?” Olenna asked, with a canny raised brow.

“Well, you see…” Rhaenys said slyly. “Father is worried about Grandfather. He’s becoming more and more erratic. The way he had poor Velaryon tortured…” She trailed off and shuddered. “He’s trying to be declared regent, but needs a unanimous vote on the Small Council. Velaryon believed Grandfather could get better, but…” She sighed sadly. “Father _was_ going to invite you to King’s Landing to discuss a marriage between your Margaery and my brother, but Grandfather has told father his children can’t marry while he is king, so Father was content to let you in Highgarden.”

Mace’s eyes lit greedily. “Your brother?”

“Oh yes, he and Margaery are absolutely _mad_ for each other.” Rhaenys whispered conspiratorially, just as she had said very similar words to her own father. “She’d be a princess before the year is out if my brother had his way.”

“Really?” Olenna repeated, doubtfully.

“Oh yes.” Rhaenys replied. “He left her a rose at her dorm the other week, pinned to her door, and she bought him coffee. It was terribly sweet.”

Olenna’s eyes brightened, she had obviously seen Margaery’s Instagram post not that long ago, just like she had. Rhaenys had also seen Jae studying flower meanings online and was able to put two and two together.

“Anyway, Lord Mace, it is very good to have you here.” Rhaenys said with a smile. “I hope we will be family someday soon.”

* * *

  **@keeppeepers:** The new _#masterofships_ has made his new home in the _#redkeep_ . Seen here with his children **@garlanthegallant** , **@highgardenrose** , and **@knightofflowers** .

* * *

 “Margaery, my dear!” Lord Mace Tyrell said, as he rose to his feet and kissed his daughter on either cheek. “I’m so glad you could come and see me.”

“Of course, Father.” Margaery replied, with a smile, sending a look to her grandmother, who was sitting in the corner of the room, and scoffing. “Why did you want to see me?”

“I had a very interesting visit from Princess Rhaenys the other night.” Mace said, seriously. “She said you had hooked Prince Aegon.”

Margaery blinked at that. _Prince Aegon_ ? She had never even _met_ Prince Aegon, who had been unable to visit Jae except the once, and she had been in class at the time. Tilting her fingers together, she put on her best Highgarden smirk. “What _exactly_ did Rhae say?” She slid in the nickname for the princess that Jae always used, just to convince her father she was as close to the crown as he seemed to think.

Lord Mace chuckled. “That her brother was mad about you and would have made a princess before the year was out, if the king would let the prince and princess marry.”

“She said that her brother had left you the rose at your dorm.” Olenna pointed out, watching Margaery carefully.

Margaery would of let out a sigh of relief, if she wasn’t being watched so closely. She was _certain_ Rhaenys had never mentioned Aegon at all. She probably had just referred to ‘ _her brother,’_ and knowing nothing about Jaehaerys, her father had made the obvious assumption. Instead, Margaery blushed. “I...I _had_ hoped the rose was from him, but the match seemed so impossible, at least as long as the king…”

“Well!” Mace declared. “A single small council vote should set that problem to rights, my dear. I _did_ have my concerns when you wanted to go to University that you would forget your duties, but I see now I was a fool.”

“You have always been a fool, Mace.” Olenna scoffed. “I no longer hold any hope that you will have learned.”


	12. The Break-Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rhaegar meets with the Small Council.  
> Aegon breaks Jon out of the hospital.  
> Arya makes an impression  
> Margaery and Olenna have lunch.

* * *

**HRH Princess Elia, Returns Again to Dorne After Three Months in King's Landing, Marking Her Longest Visit in Fifteen Years.**

* * *

 The meeting chamber of the Small Council was old, and the table in the center even older. The men who were gathered about the table traded looks between each other, but no one was willing to break the silence. Many were frightened that if this meeting went wrong, it could well be considered treason. Staunton and Chelsted looked particularly nervous, though they had more experience than most at these meetings. It was not the first Prince Rhaegar had held without the king’s knowledge, but they suspected it would be the last. The fact that the memory of Velaryon and the smell of charred flesh had required a change, especially with gossip what it was.

Rhaegar did not know what it was his daughter had done, but he could not help but be both proud and grateful to her. He always worried so over Rhaenys when she was young. She had been small and gentle, and he had held her more than once while she had sobbed in his arms that Aerys hated her. She had begged him to tell her how to make her grandfather love her, and he had no answers to give. She had grown strong, and he was grateful for it.

“My Lords of the Small Council, it is with a heavy heart that I call you here today.” Rhaegar said, respectfully. “It was all too recently that Lord Velaryon took a seat here, and then was later found guilty of treason by my father, the king.” The room was so silent a pin could have dropped and echoed like a roar of dragonfire. “My father has ruled a long time, and survived much, more than many others, but his experiences have taken a toll on him. He needs healing, and to be away from the risks of attack and assassination. As such, I plead with you, my Lords, to consider investing, in me, a regency, until such time as the king has recovered.”

“Do you believe he will recover, Your Highness?” Lord Staunton asked.

“Only the gods may know, Lord Staunton.” Rhaegar answered. “We must have hope, but the Grand Maester would know better.”

Pycelle, surprised by the address, bowed his head. “We must have hope, but the king’s condition is indeed severe and deteriorating. It is with a heavy heart that I...well...admit...that a recovery would be terribly unlikely.”

“So my Lords, I ask you for your votes.” Rhaegar said finally, hands on the table.”For the good of Westeros.”

* * *

**@wolfgirl:** Me and **@jaeicefyre** hanging out in the hospital. He can’t wait to get out!

* * *

Arya was seated on Jon’s bed, talking about old times. It was fun to reminisce but it almost made her miss him more. Sure, he was right there, but he seemed...different somehow and she didn’t like that. She missed the closeness they had shared. She couldn’t sneak into the stables and talk with him about how frustrating mother was anymore, and even though she didn’t have anything to complain about, that still hurt. It was childish, but sometimes she hated that things changed. Not that _she_ hadn’t changed, but Jon was supposed to always be _Jon_ , and now he was and he wasn’t.

They were playing cards, both of them seated in the uncomfortable hospital chairs, across the table in the room, when the door opened and a strange man came in, with short blue hair and a blue beard like a Tyroshi.

“Excuse me!” Arya said, bristling. “This is a private room!”

The Tyroshi stared down at her, quirked a lip, and laughed. “I like you.” He said, decidedly.

“What the fuck did you do to your _hair?_ ” Jon demanded, up on his feet.

“Relax, it sprays on and washes out.” Aegon Targaryen replied. “And I’m breaking you out of this joint. “We need to go shopping.”

“Shopping?” Arya and Jon said in unison, faces scrunched up into identical faces of dislike.

Aegon laughed at them. “Come on, I know you want out of this room, and it’s important.” He shoved the bag at his brother. “I can’t tell you why, but things are buzzing.”

“Okay, okay.” Jon agreed, taking the bag from him. “Only because I’m going mad stuck in here.”

“Wonder how Grandfather will do.” Arya narrowed her eyes at the young prince who had barged in, wondering if that meant what she thought it did.

Aegon gave her a smile, smiling even wider when her frown turned into a full-on scowl. “You can call me Griff.” He offered to her.

“Why would I do that?” Arya replied.

“Because Egg is a stupid nickname and I spent a lot of time following Jon Connington around like a shadow.” Aegon replied with a grin. “You know, your scowl could be a weapon. If you could handle a sword, I’d snap you up for one of my swords.”

“Hand me one and I’ll show you how well I can handle one.” Arya remarked back, irritated. She hated when people thought she had no idea how to handle herself, or that she was some sort of Sansa.

“Arya, don’t threaten the prince.” Jon called from inside the hospital bathroom. “Aegon, don’t poke someone who can kick the arses of half your swords.”

Aegon’s head flipped toward the bathroom. “Wait, _really_?”

“She always snuck into my lessons with Arthur.” Jon answered, coming out, dressed in plain, common clothes, a pair of trousers and a linen shirt, his dark hair tucked up under a flat cap. “He handed her a sword to shut her up.”

Arya smiled her mean little wolf smile at the stupid dragon prince as his head whipped around again to stare at her. “Told you.”

* * *

**@highgardenrose:** Lunch with Grandmother at the new restaurant in town _#tonickl_ The food was amazing. I might have to try and sneak some of those _#custardtarts_ and home to share.

* * *

”Well, now that we won’t be interrupted.” Olenna said with an eyeroll as she looked around the private room of the _very_ trendy restaurant. “You and I should talk, Margaery.”

“Of course, Grandmother.” Margaery replied, waiting to pick up her fork until Olenna had done so. “What do you wish to talk about?”

Olenna toite of her salad, gimlet eyes fixed on her granddaughter. “Do you think me an idiot, Margaery?”

“Of course not!” Margaery answered quickly, shocked at the very idea. Lady Olenna Tyrell was the strength of the house, and everyone knew it. “I know better than that!”

The Queen of Thorns harrumphed, but looked pleased enough.”You’re not following your father’s idiocy and trying to marry Prince Rhaegar?”

Margaery’s reaction was all the answer anyone would need. While she was usually prepared for any questions, _that_ had taken her off guard, and her expression showed her opinion well. It made Olenna laugh.

“I thought not.” Olenna said, soothingly. “But I saw your face when your father mentioned Prince Aegon. You were surprised. You and the Princess both avoided using his name.”

“Grandmother.” Margaery said, trying to look calm, but knowing Olenna made her ill-at-ease. “I wouldn’t know why.”

Olenna smiled then, blade sharp. “So there is another prince.”

Margaery felt a moment of panic, and her hands grasped at her napkin before she reached for her water. “Grandmother. Don’t say such things.” She tried to force her breathing to stay even, to stay calm, but unlike strangers, Olenna knew her too well.

“The Folly, then?” Olenna asked, her eyes boring into Margaery.

“Grandmother, _please_.” Margaery insisted, grabbing Olenna’s hand in a desperate gambit. “Don’t. Please don’t.”

Olenna looked at their hands, Margaery’s well-manicured one grasping her older, wrinkled one, knotted with arthritis. “Is he good to you? Kind?”

Margaery smiled. “Impossibly good.” She agreed. “And noble to a fault.” She bit her lip, in spite of herself, knowing that Olenna was the best ally she could have, especially if her father was cross over the deception. “He jumped in front of his sister, after all.”

Olenna’s eyebrow rose. “Indeed.”


	13. The Escape

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aegon takes Arya and Jon shopping.  
> Arthur and Ned talk a little.  
> Aegon makes good on his word.

**@dailydragon:** Odd movements in the castle raise questions as to what will happen next! All  **@kingsguard** summoned to  _ #whiteswordtower _ . Has there been another  _ #assassinationattempt  _ ?

* * *

It was official. Jon hated shopping, whether it was with Uncle Ned, Aunt Catelyn, Sansa, Rhaenys, or Aegon. Aegon, however, was somehow the  _ worst. _ Well, okay, maybe not as bad as Sansa, but it was a hard choice between the two.

He was standing in the middle of the shop as Aegon insisted he try yet another brocade thing, and he rolled his eyes heavenward. Getting out his phone, he texted Margaery.

_ ‘My brother’s trying to make me look like an idiot. Or a peacock.’ _

Margaery’s reply was not helpful.  _ ‘Tell him to take pictures.’ _ The wink emoji made it only slightly better.

Jon breathed a sigh of relief when Arya put her foot down. “He looks ridiculous!” She remarked, from where she was sitting, destroying candy on her phone. 

“Well, what do you know, then?” Aegon demanded, looking offended. “Do better.”

Arya sighed, and jumped off her chair, muttering about stupid princes under her breath. In a grand total of ten minutes, she unceremoniously dropped a bundle into Jon’s hands. “Go change.”

Jon went obediently, trusting that Arya wouldn’t do him wrong...or at least not worse than Aegon. He dressed easily, smiling as at the end he found a white fur, like that of Ghost’s coat...or like the white of the Stark sigil. He swallowed hard, and turned towards the mirror in the changing room only to stop in shock.

He looked like Uncle Ned, or Lord Mormont, or any number of northern lords. He swallowed hard, running a hand through his unshaven scruff from too many days in the hospital. For the first time in a long time, he felt like an adult, like a man who could lead. 

Taking a deep breath, he realised that Arya and Aegon were not the first people he wanted to share this with. He snapped a picture, selected people from his contacts,  and sent it off, without any explanation.

* * *

_ Griff, can I have a girl as a sworn sword? _

_ It’s unusual, and it will get attention, but there’s no law against it. Lord Stannis’s little brother has one, I think. _

_ Brilliant. _

_ Don’t do anything stupid.  _

_...I may have broken Jae out of the hospital and we might be shopping. _

* * *

Ned Stark heard the chime of his phone and pulled it out of his pocket, surprised to see a text from Jon, who usually preferred to call him. Upon opening it, though, his heart flew into his throat. He had tried to do his best for the boy. While Jon was not his son, he had been only the second child he had held. He had loved him as if he was his own, and not just for Lyanna’s sake. He swallowed hard. The tiny infant, always small for his age, was a man now, and a proper one, even in the pit that was King’s Landing. 

Reaching for his phone, he called Arthur Dayne, noticing that the picture had been sent to more than just him. When the Kingsguard answered, he skipped all pleasantries. “He grew up while he was gone.”

Arthur swallowed hard. He had been resentful at the beginning of his mission. He had liked Lyanna, she had been meant to be his sister-by-law, after all, but when Brandon had died that had all changed. Ned was forced to marry Catelyn Tully, though whether it was honour, duty, or law he knew not which -- and then his beloved sister had given birth to a stillborn, and thrown herself from Starfall, all while he followed the man who had been forced to leave her. He still didn’t  _ like _ Ned Stark, hadn’t since Ashara’s death, but he forced himself to get along with him. “He grew up while he was there, you were just too close to see it.” Arthur answered. “It’s you that influenced him, he’s as much of the North as his mother.”

“She’d be proud.” Ned agreed, even though sometimes he wondered if his memories of Lyanna were true or just the way he wanted to remember her. 

“She would.” Arthur agreed. “His father is.”

“As long as he does right by him.” Ned agreed, a little cooler. 

“He will.” Arthur said, firmly. “You’ll see soon.”

* * *

**@wolfgirl:** I got a pie.  **@sansaofwinterfell** will be so jealous about my day out at market with an  _ #annoyingtwosome . _

* * *

“I still think it’s kind of stodgy, but if it’s what you want to wear.” Aegon said to his brother, shaking his head, even as he turned over the three golden dragons he had bet the tiny lady that jae would choose one of the suits he had chosen. “Honestly, between you and Baela. She’s already got a Dornish gown picked out, never mind where we are.”

Jae looked at him carefully. “There are seven kingdoms, Young Griff. I don’t think they were ever meant for one to rule. That’s why we have the Small Council, to help. Let Baela be the south and I be the north and you represent the middle kingdoms.”

“The dragon must have three heads.” Aegon said, thoughtfully. 

“I’m not marrying you.” Jae muttered at him, under his breath as they left the shop. “Or Rhae...Baela...whatever.”

Aegon shuddered, shaking his head. “Don’t even joke.” He corralled them into the armorer that he always used, small and cramped and obviously old. 

“Your Grace.” The old blacksmith behind the counter said. “What can I do for you?”

Aegon, unbothered at being recognised by someone he knew and trusted, promptly shoved Arya at him. Arya, who was not expecting it, squeaked. “What the hell?”

“A proper set of golden armour for her, good sir.” Aegon asked, politely.

“ _ Wait, what?” _ Arya and Jae said in unison. 

“I said if you could handle a sword, I’d have you for one of mine.” Aegon reminded them. “Jae vouched for you. Welcome to the Golden Company.”

Arya turned on him like a growling direwolf. “Who says I want any part of your stupid guards?”

Aegon shrugged. “You can still take classes at university, but you can also learn all kinds of swordsmanship, and live at the castle with Jae. Why _wouldn’t_ you want to?”

“Maybe I’d rather sworn sword for him.” Arya challenged.

Aegon laughed. “He’d never let you. He’d worry about you putting yourself in danger for him.”

Arya glanced at her brother, who looked abashed, but nodded.

“Ugh!” She said, throwing her hands. “Fine!”

Jae groaned. “Uncle Ned is gonna kill me.”

“Nah.” Aegon said with a grin. “Though he might be cross.”

“You’re insane.” Jae remarked. “She’s going to learn everything  _ just _ to learn to kick your arse.”

Aegon grinned. “Sounds like fun, though.”


	14. Tomorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jae decides on one more stop, Margaery studies and warns Jae about her father. The last night of Jon Snow.

* * *

**@keeppeepers:** Something is going on over at the  _ #redkeep _ , but we can’t get any solid information. Rumors are suggesting everything from a  _ #royalwedding _ to a death in the family.  _ #princeviserys _ hasn’t been seen in the capital for months. Stay tuned!

* * *

Aegon grinned as they left the armorer. “There see, I told you. Now, we really should be getting Jae back, before Dad has my hide. Lucky for us, Griff is running interference.”

Jae groaned, hanging his head. “I’m sick of the hospital.” He muttered. “I’m stuck in that bloody room, and not allowed to go anywhere. I hate just lying around all day.”

Aegon sighed. “I know, but you’ll be home soon.”

Arya snorted. “He’ll be back at the castle, maybe.” She muttered, half under her breath. “Not  _ home _ .”

Aegon shrugged in reply. “Well, his home here, then.” As a prince, and one that bounced about quite a bit, he was accustomed to the idea of multiple homes. 

“Don’t argue, you two.” Jae said blandly. “Just one more stop, then I’ll go peaceably.”

“One more stop.” Aegon agreed.

Arya rolled her eyes. “I’ll stop and get Sansa a pastry then. I don’t feel like watching you make eyes.”

Jaehaerys flushed red. “We can go back to the hospital, I suppose.”

“No.” Aegon declared, grinning like a loon. “Now I want to meet whoever this is that you apparently make eyes at.”

* * *

**@highgardenrose:** Sometimes it is easiest to find peace and quiet in the places no one expects. Especially when people are making out in the stacks. #klulife #studytime #thelibraryhasmoresnoggersthanstudiers

* * *

Margaery had been raised as the only daughter of a Great House. She had been trained to care for a household, but that was mostly in a management position, with servants to do the majority of the work. Coming to King’s Landing University had changed all that by quite a bit. Strangely, one of the things she enjoyed most was laundry. There was just something about the smell of clean clothes, laundry soap, and the feel of fabric right out of the dryer that appealed to her. More than that, however, the laundry room in the dorm was one of the quietest, aside from the hum of the machines. Despite the posted signs not to leave your things unattended, most students came in, dumped their clothes in a machine, and left. It was peaceful. Sometimes Margaery needed that peace. Still, the laundry room was a common space, so she didn’t look up when the door opened again, with a rather long pause before closing again. Some people waited entirely too long to do their laundry, but she wasn’t here to judge. Of course, that all changed when they spoke. 

“Westerosi Relations with the Free Cities still?” A voice asked.

Margaery turned around in surprise, letting her book close as she spotted Jae standing only a few feet away, with a man by his side that it took her longer than it should have to realise was Aegon. “Jae!” She said, surprised despite herself, launching to her feet, and wrapping him in a hug. “It’s so  _ good _ to see you out of there.”

“Temporary reprieve, I’m afraid.” Jae admitted, cautiously returning the embrace, and taking a moment to soak in the weight of Margaery Tyrell in his arms and the scent of roses and berries. “Griff over there broke me out.”

It was  _ entirely _ improper, but Margaery had to fight to release him from the embrace. “Ah, about...Griff...there may be a bit of a problem.”

“I won’t tell.” Aegon said, holding up his hands. 

“Not like that.” Margaery admitted. “Your sister…”

Aegon groaned. “What did Baela do now?”

Margaery glanced at Jae, and then smiled weakly. “She went to see my father and grandmother, welcomed them to King’s Landing, and then told them that her brother was in love with me. Father doesn’t know about you…”

“So he thinks it’s Griff.” Jae finished, with a sigh. He closed his eyes for a moment. It  _ hurt _ , to even think about Margaery with Aegon. He took a deep breath. “I...Margaery, you know I care about you, right? I wanted to come here and see you, even though I knew you’d come see me today or tomorrow.” 

Margaery nodded. “I care about you too, Jae.” 

She smiled at him, eyes sparkling and that somehow made the ache in his chest worse. Jae swallowed. “As much as I want it, I can’t give you...mrph!”

“Shut up, you don’t know what’s happened.” Aegon informed him, placing his hand over Jae’s mouth, before the stupid could come out. He looked around the room, and then realising it was as secure as he was likely to get, said quietly: “We had to go shopping today because after you’re released, Dad’s moving you into your  _ other _ room. You won’t be Jae the Black anymore.”

Jae’s eyes widened, and when Aegon removed his hand, he turned to look at him. “But Grandfather…!”

“Has been installed in a suite near our uncle, where he can be given the best of care.” Aegon explained. “Dad’s holding off on the official announcement until you’re home.”

“So I’ll be…” Jae started, only for Aegon to cut him off. 

“You’ll be exactly who you’ve always been, just with all the annoying names and titles.” Aegon said flatly. So smile, kiss the girl, and don’t say the idiotic tripe you were about to say.” 

“Yes, your majesty.” Jae snarked, before turning back to Margaery. “I hope your father’s not too cross when it isn’t who he thinks.”

“Grandmother will sort him out.” Margaery replied, a little flatly. “And if you try to put me off because of status again, I will give Ghost the squeakiest dog toy I can find just to spite you.”

Jae laughed, and kissed her forehead. “As my lady deems fit.” He whispered softly, then kissed her properly, relief flooding through him that this wasn’t just some lark, that he wouldn’t have to push her away, or watch her with someone else because he was a nobody.

* * *

**@crownwatch:** _ #jaetheblack _ returns to the # _ redkeep _ ! Is he recovered from the  _ #fireattack _ or was he released just for the  _ #specialannouncement _ scheduled for tomorrow?

* * *

There was a difference in the feel of the Red Keep when Jon returned from the hospital. Whether it was only him, because he was about to be accepted and recognised for who he was, or the entire keep because they no longer had to worry about Aerys was impossible for him to tell. 

Heading up to the family wings, he had immediately received a hug from Rhaenys, who had turned over Ghost, and then ended up in the bedroom that his father had texted him pictures of that night when he had been talking about godswoods with Margaery. It was a nice room. In fact, it was perfect. Yet, as he tossed and turned under the covers on the large bed, he couldn’t get comfortable. There was too much different all at once, like someone had pulled a chair out from behind him as he was about to sit down. 

Groaning after a few hours of trying to get comfortable, he rolled his eyes at himself and then headed for the attached guard room. When he opened the door, Arthur sat up, but Jon ignored him and moved over to the second, empty bed in the room. 

“Hey now, no prinices in guard’s rooms.” Arthur teased, face gentle. 

“Not a prince until tomorrow.” Jon replied, curling up in the narrower bed, like the one he had used when guarding Rhaenys. “Can’t sleep. It’s too much different, too fast.” 

Arthur sighed slightly. “Just for tonight then.”

Jon nodded. “Just for tonight.” Tomorrow, everything would be different, but for tonight, at least he’d get some sleep.


End file.
